So a while back I watched one of the many docu-stories on Whitney Houston on Netflix. It was all very riveting… I mean, she was the queen of voice, right? Super Bowl XXV and Star Spangled Banner…
Anyway, one of her docu-stories has stayed with me. I can’t remember the title – it might even be the same title as my post – but in one of the most poignant scenes, they tell her that she’s about to go on an interview and she innocently (so hopefully) asks, “Can I be me?”
Now, I don’t recall the exact answer she gets but the change in her face makes it clear that it wasn’t what she wanted to hear. And you can almost see her slowly shift into a manufactured person. The vibrancy in her eyes fades. But she does well in the interview. Her responses are well-timed and seasoned with the right amounts of bubbly. And she… she is so very severely diminished.
I revisit that image and scene in my mind often. When I encounter people who have high walls and eyes full of secrets. When I try to shade myself and make it look like feminine mystique (I often fail miserably — but the efforts are hilarious even to me). When I hear pain in stories that are so bravely told. When I hear deprecating humor and sarcasm come through in conversations. When I see longing in children’s eyes for affirmation from their siblings. When I hear my mother missing me but trying so hard not to say so. When I see my friend act out only to pull back in shame and guilt. When I interact with people at work and struggle not to reach out a hand and say, “Just be you… I promise to be me, in return.”
I don’t know why the process of human domestication requires denial of vital parts of ourselves.
Maybe the stress and exhaustion of work everyday is not in the tasks or the cleverness demanded by the roles we play. Maybe it is from the shimmying in and out of these necessary performances. Maybe our greatest fetes as humans is not in exhibiting consciousness but in the continuous acting and performance we do and pass off as living life.
Maybe it’s not as bad as I making it sound — gosh I am obsessed with the story behind the story, aren’t I?
I wonder who will serve up “Can I be me?” face today.